


You're My End and My Beginning

by fantasyworld



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death is past incarnations, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasyworld/pseuds/fantasyworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In every life he would search for her. Sometimes he succeeded. Sometimes he failed. Sometimes he found her, only to have her ripped out of his grasp. But he would never give up. He would always fight for his Lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My End and My Beginning

_Ancient Egypt  
_ _3000 BC_

It’s not his first lifetime, and it certainly won’t be his last. But he is happy. He found his Lady again—two lifetimes in a row without her were absolute torture—and he was able to fight by her side. He knew who she was behind the beautiful mask that hid her from the rest of the world, and she knew him. From the moment he met her, he’d never let himself be apart from her. She didn’t remember their last life together, or any of the lives before. She never did. But it was okay. He could remember for the both of them. The kwami always held his memories for him. And each time he was awarded his ring, they would all come rushing back. It made him cry every time, but it was always worth it to see the sparkle in her eyes when she met him in each lifetime. She was his soul mate, and he hers. They always had a mark to prove it, though the lifetimes always changed the rules. This time they were marks not unlike the hieroglyphics that lined the walls of his father’s throne room, and his grandfather’s tomb. She had a black cat on the back of her neck, long and beautiful just like every part of her body. His was a ladybug delicately placed on his chest, right over his heart. He never thought of a more fitting place. She always possessed his heart, even in the lifetimes where he’d never met her.

He took a hit for her. He always did. He always would. Now he lay bleeding at her feet, even as she lowered herself to her knees to be beside him. He tried to tell her not to, that she should never lower herself for anybody, but she didn’t listen. She never did when it came to such matters, no matter the lifetime. She knew so little of their history, and he knew so much. Too much, even. She cried for him as she drew his head into her lap, lightly brushing her fingers over his scalp. His wig had been knocked away in the fight. His father had tried to bring Queen Nefertiti back from the God Osiris. They had stopped him, thank the gods, but now the boy lay dying in the arms of his soul mate. Nobody would know his name or his lineage, but his Lady would remember him for as long as she lived. He was certain of that. She whispered words of love and comfort, even as his vision began to fade. His hands trembled as he reached up to cup her cheek in his palm one last time.

“I’ll see you in the next life.”

She would never know that he didn’t mean the Egyptian Afterlife.

* * *

 

 _Ancient India  
_ _1500 BC_

This life was more frustrating. He knew her. He saw her frequently. But only in the mask. She wouldn’t let him know who she was behind it. It didn’t matter that their hearts quite literally burned for each other when they were near. It didn’t matter that he could see the faint glow of her pulse in her chest every time he approached, and could see it hasten when he stood too close to her. It didn’t matter that she could watch his heart beat for her and only her. She still refused to reveal her identity. She said she had her reasons. He wanted to tell her that those reasons didn’t matter when they were soul mates. He tried to tell her so many times. Too many times. The society they lived in this time around didn’t keep her at the same status as him, she claimed. She wanted to be free. He promised her freedom and more.

She didn’t believe him.

She had been hurt by men before him. It made his blood boil.

He never learned who she was while she was alive.

She died giving birth to another man’s child.

The other man was a cur who had hurt his Lady.

The other man did not live much longer than she did.

* * *

 

 _Ancient Greece  
_ _500 BC_

They were enemies this time, and it killed him to know it. He was a man of Athens, she a woman of Sparta. They were destined to hate each other, yet he could only love her. He’d never met her before, but he recognized her the moment he saw her on the battlefield. She was beautiful and graceful, just like she always was. It didn’t matter that she was a woman in battle. Sparta never cared for such details. Athens did. She would have been delegated to the home. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her. Blood was smeared on her face, just under the red and black spotted mask she wore over her eyes, and he never thought she looked more stunning. He heard her shouting words, but none of them matched the ones that had been on his wrist from the moment he was born in this life. But he knew it was her. It was always her. She had to have words on her wrist or arm as well. That was how it always worked. She was always his soul mate, and he hers. In every lifetime, in every reincarnation. And he would prove it to her. They were of the same soul. He ran across the battlefield, easily dodging the attacks from other Spartans with the reflexes given to him by the kwami and the ring. Before he could reach her, one of his brothers in arms gutted her with a sword. The soldier was on to another Spartan before she had even hit the ground, and now the Cat could only stare in horror as he dropped to his knees at the same time she fell. He scrabbled over to her, his claws digging into the blood-stained earth, and tears fell freely from his eyes. He was by her side in moments, her blood spilling from her abdomen. There was still a fire in her eyes. She didn’t recognize him. She never did.

“Let me help you!” he cried.

“Give me my sword,” she growled, blood pouring over her lips now even as she reached for the blade she had dropped. His heart lurched when he heard the words—the same words on his wrist. They must have been first words, he reasoned. First words that she had spoken to him in this life. He reached for the sword and drew it closer so she could hold the hilt in her hand.

“As you command.” Her eyes widened for just a moment, a stunning realization behind them, before they slowly fluttered shut. He tried to rouse her, but she would not move. He felt her neck, but could feel no pulse. His blood ran cold. He checked her wrist and found the words.

They were not First Words in this life.

They were Last.

* * *

 

 _Mayan Civilization  
_ _500AD_

The kwami found him in this life, but he never found her. Plagg found him too young. Too soon. The image of the sun in his people’s glyphs—in this lifetime at least—had barely appeared on the back of his left hand when the kwami came. He couldn’t have used his powers so early. The emotional strain of the memories was too great for the mind of a ten-year-old boy. It was too much. He knew he should have tried to find her. He knew she was out there somewhere. That she would have a soul mark to oppose his sun. Maybe a moon. Or the Mayan night sky. He didn’t know for sure. He wanted to find her. His life was too short. The physical strain left his body weaker, instead of growing stronger.

He fell ill.

He died.

He never knew what she looked like in this life.

* * *

 

 _Renaissance Italy  
_ _1500 AD_

He might have known his Lady in this life. It was blurry. For all the vivid, beautiful art in this life, it was all very unclear for him. He didn’t think he could see correctly. Or perhaps he simply couldn’t understand. Whenever he looked back on this life, he saw himself as a fool and a failure. He met his Lady as the heroine of the city. They were needed and he protected her like always. He tried to reach out to her, but never could convince her to reveal her identity. It wasn’t the first time. He knew it wouldn’t be the last. He had words on his arm. He didn’t know if they were First or Last. Memories of past lives—particularly Greece—still echoed in his mind. Words were never reliable. After all, in what context could ‘Flattery won’t lower the price’ make any sort of sense? When he looked back on this life, he knew he missed his chance with the beautiful artist from whom he’d commissioned a piece of art.

“You are radiant, my lady,” he said with a sly smirk. It was truth, and the greatest thing about this era was the appreciation of beauty. He couldn’t _not_ tell her. She smiled, blushed faintly, but still rolled her eyes.

“Flattery won’t lower the price.”

He was blind and stupid to have never realized the First Words.

She never commented on them.

He never saw her again.

* * *

 

 _American Revolution  
_ _1781 AD_

Three minutes, fifty-seven seconds. The timer on the inside of his wrist ticked down, with numbers written in his own handwriting. It started to itch, the closer it got to zero. He was to meet her again soon. He couldn’t wait. The Virginian night heat was getting to him, leaving him sweating in all of his coats even in the middle of October. Laurens was leading the battalion, under Hamilton’s command. He should have been there at the rear of the redout, but he couldn’t miss her again. He refused. It was dark. Men were on the move. His wrist was growing itchier by the second.

One minute, twenty-two seconds.

His eyes flicked around the area. He could see red everywhere, but none of them were his Lady. He kept himself hidden in the brushes. The Red-Coats wouldn’t take kindly to spying him on the battlefield. He couldn’t die before he met his Lady. That had happened too many times. He ducked out of the brush, closer to the redout. He was _almost_ in the position he should have been in Laurens’ company. He would surely receive hell for delaying.

Thirty-six seconds.

He slipped behind a wall, keeping low to the ground as he peered around the corner. Nobody saw him. His dark skin in this life helped him hide in the shadows. He could hear the fire from the front of the fort. His hand was growing numb from how much he longed to scratch at the itch as it ticked down.

Five seconds.

Suddenly, a hand rested on his shoulder and he whirled around. His hand felt like it was buzzing. He glanced at his wrist. Zero seconds. His gaze flew back to the figure that had touched him, and a smile spread across his face. She was keeping hidden as well, but still smiling. She held up the timer with zero seconds on her wrist. It was her. His Lady. He’d found her. He thought he might cry.

Then he felt the searing pain in his back, puncturing through his ribs. He folded to the ground, his blood pouring from the wound before he’d even had a chance to register the gunfire. Her face was the picture of horror, and he wanted nothing more than to make her smile again. He couldn’t let her be so sad so soon after they had met again. He had _just_ found her! Why was the universe so cruel?

“I’ll find you again, my Lady. I promise.”

* * *

 

 _WWII Germany  
_ _1940 AD_

They were running, hand in hand. It felt almost like it should have. He wished he could smile at her. Tell her how beautiful her eyes were. They were a lovely dark brown that he wouldn’t have been able to see if they hadn’t met. She gave him color in this life, and it was beautiful. The grayscale he’d lived with since birth was dull in comparison to the past lives he’d remembered after getting the ring back. He knew finding her would bring the color back this time. She had seemed so shocked and awed by the vibrant hues around her that he had been content to watch her for hours. They had been happy together. They fought together, trying to stop the war from happening. It was too big for just them. They had needed help. There hadn’t been others this time. At least, none who had found their Miraculous yet. It was just the two of them, against what felt like the world.

So long as he was by her side, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And then the gunfire resounded through the streets. He tried to jump in the way. He always did. He always would. Anything to keep them from taking his Lady from him. A bullet grazed him, but didn’t do any real damage. Barely a scratch. He heard her gasp, and he was already opening his mouth to tell her he was fine. Then he saw the blood. It almost blended into her suit, but she was falling. He caught her in his arms and ducked behind a wall, shielding her from the NSDAP. Already the color was starting to fade in the peripherals of his vision, and his heart leapt into his throat. He begged for her to stay with him. He cried as he cradled her in his arms. She kissed his cheek and gave him a smile. She told him she loved him. The color continued to fade.

The last color he saw was the vibrant red of her suit, and the blood that stained it.

Lifetimes later, he would wonder if a popular movie on this era had its visuals inspired by his misery.

* * *

 

 _Paris, France  
_ _2016 AD_

Adrien Agreste grew up a lonely boy without any friends—besides the mayor’s daughter—until the age of fourteen. That was when his whole world changed. Plagg found him, and he became Chat Noir for the first time in this life. And all of the lifetimes before came rushing to him so quickly he’d needed to run outside to clear his head. That was how he’d found his Lady in this life. And the ladybug soul mark on his left shoulder blade suddenly made all the sense in the world—sense that it never made before his memories came back. Ladybug wanted to keep their identities hidden, and he’d seen how that went so many times before. But she didn’t remember. She never seemed to remember, and Adrien found himself asking Plagg about it one night.

Apparently the kwamis had made a deal not to interfere with the romance between the Cat and the Lady. Turns out Plagg made a deal with the first Cat before he made the deal with the Ladybug kwami. He was bound by honor to let the Cat remember every time. And then not interfere in any other way.

Adrien waited patiently, trying to coax his Lady into letting him know who she was. It wasn’t until the both of them were seventeen that he finally got his wish. It just wasn’t in the way that he had intended. He was the boy—not the Cat—and he was having a study session in the park with Marinette. It was hot. She’d worn shorts. The hem shifted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the black cat soul mark curled comfortably on her thigh. Marinette squeaked and tried to cover it up, but he could only stare with wide eyes. Part of him wanted to cry. He’d found his Lady as a civilian, and she had been right behind him the whole time. He threw his arms around her, and breathed a “Thank God.” She was confused, and stuttered her way through asking what he was doing. Adrien didn’t waste a second in showing her the ladybug on his back, and telling her that he knew they were soul mates. He’d had this conversation so many times in the past. Usually his Lady would believe him. But sometimes she didn’t. And as he blurted out the words, horror suddenly edged at the back of his mind. What if she didn’t believe him in this life? What if he had finally found her, only for her to slip from his grasp again?

He hadn’t realized he was hyperventilating until Marinette had her hands on his shoulders and was staring into his eyes. She told him to breathe with her, and it took more effort than he would have liked. When she thought he was finally calm enough, she gave him a shy smile.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag, _mon chaton,_ ” she whispered, stifling a giggle, and he couldn’t help it. He burst into a fit of laughter and drew her back into his arms. They laughed until they were breathless, holding each other as if the other were a lifeline. For him, she always was. He pulled away from her only far enough so that he could press his lips to hers. She responded in kind and it felt like heaven. It felt like everything was right and as it should be, at least in that moment. He refused to let something else take her away from him again. Damn Le Papillon if he tried to take Marinette away.

He wasn’t expecting her to gasp and pull away sharply with tears brimming in her eyes.

He wasn’t expecting her to stare at him with so much compassion and fear that it made his heart break.

He wasn’t expecting the next words to come out of her mouth.

“You always came for me.” It was barely a whisper. He might not have caught it if not for all the times as Chat Noir heightening his hearing abilities. “Even when you didn’t find me, you still always looked, didn’t you?” Adrien’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had his Lady finally remembered him? But what had sparked it? Certainly not her kwami. The kiss? But he had long since learned that she had kissed him before when Kim had been Akumatized on a Valentine’s Day that felt like a lifetime ago in and of itself. Was it because they knew they were soul mates this time? Adrien didn’t know, but he found that he didn’t care. His Lady was crying, and he needed to make it stop.

“I promised I would,” he answered around the lump forming in this throat. Marinette seemed to fall apart before his very eyes, tears streaming down her face as she hid behind her hands. Adrien couldn’t think of anything to do besides draw her into his arms and hold her as tightly as he could.

“It’s too much,” she cried. “You were always there, and we always lost each other.”

“That won’t happen this time.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt so certain. But he just knew. The Cycle had ended. The world would always need a Ladybug and her Black Cat, but they wouldn’t have to suffer the torment of losing each other anymore.

They could be happy.

They could be together.

They could be whole.

**Author's Note:**

> The Cycle of Sad ends when Ladybug remembers her past lives. Yay for happy endings!
> 
> Y'all, I could have SO easily made this parallel the Egyptian one, and made Le Papillon be Gabriel and have Adrien die by Gabriel's hands just like the Egyptian Cat died by his father's hands.
> 
> But I was nice and did a happy ending. Because I think I would have cried if I made it much sadder. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
